A Family Holiday

Zip-zip, zap-zap, zoom.Along the coastal hilly roads in the swift silver sedan,Scattered Crisp-crumbs and hundred screams of ‘Are we there yet’? from the backseatYelps of excitement to the favourite stereo-beat. Rickety-a-trickety, hush-rush.Beneath the breezy palm trees in wooden stilt cabins,Card games, refreshing siestas and marvelling cries of ‘Look what I found’ from the shoreTranquil sighs to the mellow-orange sunset-décor. Rum-a-rumble, […]

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Sculptures

Louvre राजवाड्यातील Monalisa लावाटत असेल का एकटेपणा?Selfies च्या ओलाव्यात एक निराळाच कोरडेपणा.चाहत्यांच्या तर्कांची वाटत असेल का गंमत?सिम्तहास्याच्या पड्याआड असेल Italian सेठाणी हळूहळू खचत. Gizaच्या Sphinx ला आला असेल का प्रचंड संताप?रणरणत्या सहारा मध्ये बसुन दाखवायचे तिने कोड्यांचे प्रताप.Pharaoh बरोबर स्वस्तातला सौदा केल्याचा वाटत असेल का खंत?विदुषीचा सन्मान सोडून स्विकारला तिने वाळवंतात द्वारपालिकेचा अंत. Copenhagen च्या Mermaid ला वाटत असेल का पोरके?समुद्रकिनारी बसूनही तिला भीक घालेना तिचे टोळके.प्रेमापोटी वाहून गेल्याने वाटत असेल का फसगत?जगावेगळे स्वप्न पाहून केली मत्स्यराणीने हिंमत. New York च्या Fearless Girl ला वाटत असेल का Peer pressure?बुरसटलेल्या परंपरांना सामोरेजाऊन गाठायचे तिला शिखर.निरागस बालिकेला वाटत असेल का हा कसौटीचा प्रवास?शेकडो वर्षानंतर वळून पाहिल्यावर जग म्हणेल पोरीने लिहीला एक अनोखा इतिहास. 23 September 2018

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A Minute of Silence

A Minute of SilenceFor the unfinished chapters, the dusty fridge tops, the ignored payment reminders, the binned leftovers,The chaos behind shut wadrobe doors. A Minute of SilenceFor what ifs, may bes, could bes, should haves, but onlys. A firmer resolve for some compassion,To quit this motion of inflicting violence. 9 September 2018

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Lifestyle

आम्ही Insta generationआम्हाला खाण्याचे व्यसन. पौष्टिक Salads असोत किंव्हा झणझणीत चिकन,अन्न, वस्त्र, निवारा आणि Smartphone वर Deliveroo चे बटण. मुघ्हलाई, चाईनीज, राहिले दूर,आता ताव मारण्यासाठी असते Italian, Mexican किंवा Peruvian. भाजी-भाकरी सोडून केली आम्ही Weekend brunch ची Fashion,कंटाळा आला म्हणून Midweek जातो Pizza-Pasta takeaway ला शरण. आम्ही Insta generationआम्हाला खाण्याचे व्यसन. शुक्रवार उगवताच होतो Hangout sathi search,4 तास Google करून जागा नाही मिळाली कीआम्ही म्हणतो Too much! पाडव्याला पुरणपोळी, गणपतीला मोदक खाताना Selfie is a must,मग म्हणा #ethinic #homemade लाच करा trust. वदनी कवळ घेता प्रथम Insta वर photo curry चे, असे म्हणुन गिळतो,खाण्यासाठीच जगतो आम्ही की Likes साठी मरतो. आम्ही Insta generationआम्हाला खाण्याचे व्यसन. 29 July 2018

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Kate and Bourdain

Ah! Sixteen this age, ripe and tender,I have my guitar and endless songs on my lips.I aspire Kate, I believe in Bourdain.Little do I know of this dance on the tightrope.I await like the cold dark green henna on a bride’s palmdesiring to set into a deep maroon. Ah! Twenty-five this age, determined and brave,I have my map and endless plans about my trips.I aspire Kate, I believe in Bourdain.I am learning this dance on the tightrope.I roll my dice like a debt-ridden gamblerwanting to welcome a windfall. Ah! Thirty-one this age, knowing and humble,With guitars and maps, songs and plans.I have learnt the secret to the tightrope is to embrace the fall.I aspire to be my own Kate. I believe in my own Bourdain. 20 June 2018

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First Date

I remember him standing with his hands on waist with legs spread wide apart,Watching cricket in his checkered blue shirt. I remember my heart skipping a beat as I noticed him,Wondering if he is the one. I remember convincing him to eat kheema-pao at the humble Cafe Gulshan,Withdrawing that for a tete à tete at Tasting Room. I remember noticing CEO’s reflection in the mirror in front of me,Wanting him to disappear as I chatted nonchalantly with a glass of Rose. I remember us sitting in front of an eager Dad,Weighing a dozen thoughts in my little head in a split second. I remember saying a YES. 16 June 2018

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Dementors

There was a time whenHarry Potter was a heroand the series was my bible.A quick apparation toHogwarts castle, a land of magicand adventurethe world was indeed my oyster. There was a time whenbooks were most precious possessionsMuch before mortgages and insurance.I chewed them at the breakfast tableI gulped them before dinner timeI read them underneath Geography textbooks, I read them with torch lights. There was a time when the only secrets I had was my book stashHidden strategically below my bed.Much before, the thousand scars neatly tucked away in my heart. There was a time whenHarry Potter was my heroand the series was my bible. Atleast I could stifle theDementors inside my books 2 June 2018

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Home

A bustling vibrant market with the aroma of coffee beansLounging around in unwashed tee and jeans A silent tear as the Bhairavi ends in an ovationWatching a melodramatic movie for the Nth time giving you the same sensation Completing my sentences whilst pressing their arms against mineUnspoken words between us staring silently at a glass of wine His half sunlit hazel eyes as they search for me in a crowded roomThe soft twinkling fairy lights in midst of winters gloom Her gentle fragnance comforting my nose as I hide my head on her lapTucking into familiar bedsheets for an afternoon nap Brushing my hair strands behind my ears as he holds my faceWhilst I quietly slip into his warm embrace This and somewhere in betweenI return to a place called home. 13 April 2018

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Silly Stupid Cherry Tree

Silly stupid cherry treeJovial and carefree. Playing with the robins,singing to the bees.Weeping with the hollow wind,giving an ear to the passer-byfor it was gentle and kind. You could mistake itfor the wise oak,For it had taken perilious journeys,As it stood solitaryon the rounded hillock. Silly stupid cherry treeJovial and carefree “You blossom too much, little cherry”, moaned the robin.“You need to shed the leaves now”, thats the land’s decree.“Is it true?”, enquired the cherry tree,with the moaning wind and singing bees.Oh yes, yes, yes!! Yes, ofcourse you stupid silly cherry tree. Only the easterly wind took pity.He assured that the blossoms looked pretty.It spoke to her of the festival of Hunami and the orchards in a faraway city. So the brave cherry, wriggled and persisted,But then its deep roots resisted.The howling strong winds had its branches twisted.Whilst the singing bees had it desserted. Stupid silly cherry treeWrecked and brought to its knees. Days, weeks and months went by,The cherry continued to moan and sigh, it stood halfway uprooted and branches twisted. Little saplings of cherry bloomed nearby.“Dont blossom too much”, they were warned. For here lies the stupid silly cherry treeOnce jovial and carefreeNow wrecked and brought to it knees. 5 May 2018.

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#MeToo

#Metoo, Me three, Me fourLet the silences unschackle and make a way for an outpour. That brutal gaze, that unwanted touch, those lewd remarks,With a sly smile, mock laughter or those numerous fake pleas. In dark alleys, on morning runs,in a broad daylight bazaar, amidst ganpati processions. That builder in slippers on the train , the whats his name lad drowning in perfume at the bar, the man in a suit with a fancy car. Empty promises, emotional blackmail or unwarranted threats,Sober or drunk, in isolation or crowded streets. My chiffon sari, my friend’s floral dress, my sisters short skirtWill tell you the same story of vulnerability,Of burning rage, of unspoken words, of moral guilt trips, of repressed shame.Ofcourse, the person responsible wasOnly Me. With no safe place to disclose, hush your tone, what will They think, it happens, you will fall flat on your nose. Time we address a change and create an uproar.Because it has been MeToo, Me Three and Me Four. 17 October 2017

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